Silhouettes
by klaxipro
Summary: .8059. Gokudera had a bad habit of overreacting, Yamamoto couldn't help but be smitten though.


Silhouettes;;

.8059. .Future!Fic. Citrus-y.

* * *

Yamamoto's breathing was labored, coming out in pants, condensation residing on his upper lip. The sticky sensation of drying blood ran down from his temple to his chin and his vision was blurred. An unidentifiable male hovered above his crumple body, clad in various shades of black. A flash of white teeth contrast to the darkness, bits of red staining the pink gums and enamel. Shivers scraped down his spine and he wasn't smiling with that happy-go-lucky attitude radiating off his person anymore.

A sharp-pointed blade pressed firmly at his neck, ready to lob his head off at any minute. Eyes clenched tightly, he had the urge in his fingertips to swing a bat and hear the crack of wood. Everything burned and his nerves ached from being tossed around. Bruises formed on his back as a booted foot slammed down on his spinal cord and a pinprick of metal against skin leaves a rivulet of crimson pooling down to the ground. A few more centimeters of torturous taunting and then the blade was removed.

Strangulated cries and the distinct crack of knuckles against cartilage seemed so foreign and surreal. Continuous punching and a raised elbow, prepared to lay another blow to his attacker's face. Cracking open his vision was distorted and even a hand in front of his face difficult to make out. Groaning in pain and too delirious to form words, the violent outburst stopped. A light chuckle was the last thing Yamamoto could remember as blood loss took his toll and his vision tunneled. Images of baseball and the downfall of his attacker danced through his brain.

-

Halogen lights buzzing simultaneously hissed overhead. Disinfectant and constriction around his ribcage was the wake-up call Yamamoto didn't appreciate. Easing his eyes open slightly, white flashed through his brain. Pure, empty with a feeling of apathy, Yamamoto was absorbed mentally, trying to gain his bearings and piece together where he was.

A stronger scent of disinfectant approached, and while usually his nose didn't work this well due to allergies and other such things, his membranes burned and the upper cavity was hollowed out due to the potency. Pushing down the bile, Yamamoto tried his best to ignore everything but the absurdly bright lights hovering above.

Stern expression with closely knitted together brows dimmed the light and Gokudera's face held nothing short of contempt. Sighing out of his nose he set a little metal tray he was holding on the bed-side table. Arms akimbo, he sneered slightly, irritating and a hope for praise submerging in his eyes. "'Bout time you woke up, Baseball freak."

Limbs heavy and brain lagging, Yamamoto didn't want to deal with the bantering. Turning his head away he swallowed extra saliva and tried to ignore everything as Gokudera snarled in the back of his throat and lifted the tray again.

Pinching a pair of tweezers between his thumb and forefinger, Gokudera dabbed a cotton ball in the antiseptic and dabbed the wound running along his chin. "Baseball Freak," He began, voice wary and showing signs of exhaustion. "I'm only doing this because Tenth asked me, alright?" There was a hint of denial lingering in the need for reassurance.

Snorting and letting the explosives expert tend to his wounds, Yamamoto stilled, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Annoyance and a need for precise application was strewn across Gokudera's brow, his eyes latching closely to sympathy. "I was worried, you know. You left without saying anything." There was a hint that he was going to say something else but looked more embarrassed about confessing his anxiety to begin with that nothing more was said.

What had began as a simple training session directed by Squalo had ended in sheer blood lust. The man had become more violent as of late, if that was possible, seeing as he seemed to be at his peak, five years prior. While he was easier to deal with because they were allies, Yamamoto was still a bit skeptical about even muttering his name. The rings battles weren't the most pleasant and he didn't completely hold conviction for him. There was an air of traitorous feelings coming from him, whether that was from Squalo not completely trusting Tsuna or the fact that he was just an independent person, Yamamoto didn't care. It just annoyed him slightly.

A bandage was awkwardly place with trembling fingertips and Gokudera had a pained expression on his face. Parting his lips slightly, Yamamoto breathed out and then thinned them. "You okay?" Taken aback by the voice Gokudera mumbled something, turning back to get another cotton ball. "What was that, Hayato?"

Feeling the need to harass him, Yamamoto reached out, fingertips almost touching the bare skin of his upper arm. Stroking it gently, tension bloomed as Gokudera turned around, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"We should fuck tonight. This time I get to feel what you're like on the inside." He laughed boisterously. "I bet you're warm and moist!" It was course, vulgar and to-the-point yet didn't have the impact Yamamoto was hoping for.

Teeth clenched, instead of furthering the touches and the senseless acts of intimacy, Gokudera jabbed Yamamoto roughly in his bandage side, aiming for one of the rib bones. Then, setting the tray down on the table, he stormed out of the room melodramatically.

"Hayato!" Yamamoto was immobile with the pain searing through his side. Sitting up, he resisted the cries of protest his abdomen was giving off. "Don't be like that!"

He was so picky about when Yamamoto could kiss him and where he could touch him and what they could or couldn't do. It was extremely restricting and due to the always present lack of communication their relationship seemed purely sexual, if you could even call it that.

Trying his best to get the blankets unwrapped around his feet, he attempted to catch up with Gokudera, knowing that after something like that, he always seemed to walk slower, as if internally debating on rushing back and furthering it.

Once Yamamoto was able to push out into the hall there was no sign of Gokudera, or anyone for that matter. Footsteps echoed from somewhere but the painkillers lingering affects and Yamamoto's head was pulsing.

From the doorway Yamamoto stood limply. Staring intensely at his toes, the floors were cold against the soles of his feet. Wanting nothing more to go back into the uncomfortably hard cot and sleep some more, he instead wandered further out into the hall, feet not moving very quickly.

Fragments of the fight he was in flickered through his brain and all he shuddered. The next time he saw Squalo, he was going to ask for an explanation. It was out of hand and with no one really there to supervise it, how is anyone to know if something bad happened. If Gokudera hadn't come in he probably would be dead.

Yamamoto swallowed audibly and a smaller form entered his peripherals. Looking up he saw Fuuta carrying that oversized book of his. Smile cracking through his mellow disposition he seemed to exude giddiness. "Hey, Fuuta," Yamamoto's throat hurt and his voice cracked slightly. Flushing he inhaled through his nose. "Fuuta, have you seen Hayato?"

Eyes wide with questions and brimming with curiosity he bit his bottom lip. "Yeah, I think he was heading to the cafeteria." Blinking a few times he added, for good measures. "He was seething and looked really _really_ scary so I wouldn't suggest--Yamamoto?" Fuuta was cut off because Yamamoto was already rushing down the hall as fast as his crippled body would take him.

-

From down the hall he saw Gokudera leaning against a wall, cigarette hanging from his lip. Tsuna was fiddling with the hem of his dress shirt and nodding his head every once in a while. Yamamoto could see Gokudera's lips move at a rapid pace, yet everything was inaudible and most of it was blocked out by Tsuna's unruly mess of hair. He could see Gokudera shift his gaze over Tsuna head and outright ignore him.

Pulling his lips into a fine line he hobbled over to them and threw an affectionate arm around Tsuna's neck. He stiffened at the touch and shakily mumbled a 'hello'. There was a competitive stare thrown in Gokudera's direction but the other was completely enthralled with Tsuna, almost forcibly trying his hardest to not notice Yamamoto standing there.

Faint hues of pink outlined Gokudera's cheeks and he cleared his throat, holding his cigarette between his knuckles. "Anyway, Tenth, I just remembered I promised I would help, uhm, I, uh--I need to go do something." Without hearing what Tsuna's response was he quickly rushed in the opposite direction of the infirmary.

Yamamoto inwardly groaned, knowing full-well he'd have to walk all that distance to Gokudera's room just to get the thick-headed idiot to come back. Turning his attention to Tsuna he saw the boy habitually twisting the cloth of his shirt around his fingers.

"You wanna go get something to eat with me, Yamamoto?" There was a slight sign of anxiety flickering behind his irises and instead of focusing on how Gokudera probably spilled to Tsuna about their _intimate_ relationship, he cheerily ushered the boy towards the cafeteria rambling on about something baseball-oriented.

-

Tsuna looked really frail in the dress shirt that was obviously not his. It hung loosely around his shoulders and the cuffs half-covered his fingers. He had his hands wrapped firmly around an orient-inspired clay glass and was sipping some of the instant green tea they had shipped in.

Yamamoto had settled on some cup noodles and blew the steam that was tickling his skin and threatening to backfire on the stickiness of his bandaging.

"So," Tsuna spoke awkwardly, almost nervous to be around Yamamoto without Gokudera's prescience somewhere nearby. "I heard from Gokudera that, uhm--" There was a lump in Yamamoto's throat and frankly, he wished it was in Tsuna's mouth preventing him from speaking. Raising an eyebrow and smiling softly Tsuna tensed.

"Gokudera told me…" It was weird for the Tenth Vongola to be so obviously agitated. There was probably something bothering him, Yamamoto concluded in his brain, though he couldn't place his finger on what exactly could be affecting him so greatly.

Knitting his brows together he tilted his head to the side and finally blurted out. "Do you like Gokudera?" It was simple, there was no hint of ostracism. It _was_ just a straightforward question, one that could easily harm Yamamoto, no less. It made his chest tighten and want to disappear into the floor.

Chuckling, he poked at the cooling noodles with his disposable chop sticks. "That's a hard question to answer." His head pulsated and he desperately wanted to rest and not have people--more specifically, Gokudera--give him bullshit.

Setting the Styrofoam cup on the table, Yamamoto balanced his body on his forearms and looked down at Tsuna.

"Tsunayoshi," Tsuna lowered his gaze at the use of his full name. "I'm completely fine, and I'm sure Hayato is too. He's a funny guy, isn't he?" Flashing one final trademark grin, Yamamoto made use of the silence and left the room. No further words were spoken to each other on the subject.

-

The underground base was painfully silent, most especially in the infirmary ward. Tsuna had suggested for Yamamoto to continue to use the bed and resources until his wounds heal. All the Rain Guardian wanted to do was sleep in a bed that didn't feel like a bag of rocks. Trying his best to shift his weight in such a way where his ribs didn't hurt, Yamamoto was stuck counting the cracks in the ceiling.

Gokudera hadn't come to visit him again and was probably still offended about the lewd proposition. Yamamoto, himself, didn't understand the problem with it. They were adults and practically dating, it was only natural to want to further it. Gokudera was just being a prude.

He wanted painkillers. Tilting his head in an upward motion he saw the tray that Gokudera had used previously still sitting with stagnant antibacterial leaving residues in the metal tray.

"No one finished cleaning my wounds…" Yamamoto spoke to the emptiness and once the words were floating in the air he realized how childish sounded. He could've done it just fine, in spite of his injuries.

Footsteps made a defined _click_ noise against the tiles. A flippant voice responded to his complaint. "You're so whiney Baseball Freak, I was going to come back." Pallid locks sifted over Gokudera's cheeks as he hovered over Yamamoto's body. "How are you feeling?"

Snorting instead of actually saying anything, it was a bit delayed for him to resume the cleansing considering the small cuts still left unclean on his back were probably infected by now. Yamamoto stared at Gokudera, absorbing in his features and trying his hardest to read the expression.

Furrowing his brows he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just answer the question, will you?" Yamamoto couldn't help but notice how irritable Gokudera had been, even with the catty women-like responses of annoyance.

"Are you pregnant?" It came off as a serious question but really, Gokudera was just exasperated. Either Yamamoto was the whole new kind of stupid or he just had problems. Or both, knowing him.

Snarling, Gokudera sharply smacked him over the head. "What are you, stupid!?"

"I'm a _boy_!"

Yamamoto burst into laughter, forming a steeple between his fingers on his stomach. "You're so cute, Hayato." Frustrated from the idiotic conclusions Yamamoto had the tendency to come to, Gokudera still flicked on the fluorescent lights and rinsed out the tray of antiseptic. Refilling it and getting more cotton balls, he paused in front of Yamamoto.

"Where else do you have cuts, again?" Leaning his head back into the stiff pillow Yamamoto drawled out an 'uhm' and then gestured to his back, not really feeling up to more stinging and sanitizing. It always made him feel awake and it was boring right now.

Leaning over Yamamoto he helped the injured man get situated on his stomach and then lifted the defenseless scrub-like material up over Yamamoto's head. The baseball fanatic felt exposed and tried his best to see Gokudera's expression but without avail.

Long spindly fingers traced over his shoulder-blades, as if drinking in the texture the arcs and valleys. Those fingers Yamamoto fantasized about more often than not, now stroking the nerves on his back, apply a disgusting scented liquid. His joints were always so accentuated and they always seemed to be curled in some way or another. They were fingers that were meant to be splayed over ivory keys, not used for chucking explosives at nameless enemies. Yet something willed Gokudera to continue the line of Mafia work, it was a shameful loss of musical talent.

The touch was cool to Yamamoto's skin and he could feel the goosebumps rise on his arms. Swallowing audibly, as if to control himself from getting to aroused by the idea of Gokudera doing something erotic with his fingers instead of cleaning his wounds he tried his hardest to push the idea out of his brain.

Gokudera leaned down, dangerously close to Yamamoto's ear. "Is something bothering you, Takeshi?" His breath was warm as it traced over the shell. Feeling a heavy flush trace across his face he shook his head and gave a shaky laugh.

"O-of course not." An arrogant snort was pushed out from his makeshift medical nurse. Gokudera tore off the hygienic seal of the bandaging and placed them where need be to be used to prevent the least amount of infection.

There had been talk of an attack on a family trying to get a bit too friendly with Tsuna and they were going to need the Rain Guardian to be in top condition as soon as possible.

It was awkwardly silent between the too, well, more-so for Yamamoto. He wanted to apologize for relishing in his homoerotic fantasies out loud yet the churning and suffocating feeling in the pit of his stomach prevented and beat him down for even thinking about abandoning his manliness just for sex. While that would add a lot of points to the possible man-ass time, there was that slim chance of the plan falling through and the baseball fanatic looking like an idiot.

Curled fingers rest on the small of his back. Nerves fried from the antiseptic Yamamoto did his best to return to the original position of stomach to the ceiling and everything exposed. Pain surging through his body he sat up. Gokudera was silent, face pulled into a serious expression with hints of discomfort.

"Sorry for thinking you'd be warm on the inside." Then quickly, before the explosive male could overreact and be womanly about it, Yamamoto crushed their lips together, moist flesh melding and teeth bumping. Yamamoto kept his eyes open. There was always the cliché of both participants kissing with the answer of the equation being making love while their eyes are mashed closed, completely enthralled with trying to drink in the other's orifice.

Yamamoto wanted to see how pleasant Gokudera looked with his eyes closed and being calm while shoving his tongue violently down the dark-haired man's throat. Pulling away with resistance, there was a bright tint of pink highlighting his cheeks. Fingers curling around his battered face, Gokudera's breathing evened and he pressed their foreheads together.

Lips quirking upward, Yamamoto let out a sigh of relief. "I love you."

Arms dropping to his side, Gokudera's hand hovered over the supple erection forming under the flimsy sheet keeping Yamamoto from being completely nude. Ever slowly pressing down on the tender flesh below Yamamoto bit his lip and stared at the Italian.

Gokudera curled his fingers around Yamamoto's dick, his other hand tugging away the sheet. The skin on skin contact sent shivers along his spinal cord, a numb tingling sensation spreading to the tip of his penis. It twitched slightly, and long fingers ran down to the base of his shaft, touching the wiry hair there.

Dragging his nails back up to the head, he pressed down on the tip, a surge of pulsation shooting back at him. Using his other hand to spread Yamamoto's legs apart he bent over. Feeling the hot moist breath of Gokudera centimeters from his member he breathed out, curling his toes and bracing himself.

Flicking his tongue out, Gokudera dragged his tongue along the underside of it, flushed cheeks and an expression that could only be read as awkward pleasure. Trying his best to take in all of Yamamoto, he pulled out quickly when his gag reflex reacted and spasmed against the Rain Guardian's head. Swallowing Yamamoto again, the feeling of Gokudera's mouth felt amazing for him. Warm, wet and _alive_.

He let his eyes droop shut, taking in the entire feeling of tongue wrapping around him and the burning sensation bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Letting out a throaty moan, he reactively bucked into Gokudera's mouth, catching the other off guard. It was silenced quickly by a faster pace and firm hand holding him down at the pelvic bone.

Teeth lightly grazed over his shaft and looking down at the flaxen-haired male the pair of burning green eyes staring back at him aroused him greatly. Biting his lip hard the suckling against his flesh allowed a quick release of his seed, white liquid oozing from the corners of Gokudera's mouth.

Breath coming out in shaky pants, Yamamoto couldn't help but laugh slightly. He came too fast, just being near Gokudera made him so warm and fuzzy and just willing to orgasm over and over.

Face filled with displeasure, Yamamoto was surprised when Gokudera let all of it slide down his esophagus and become part of his stomach acid.

"Thank you, Hayato." Knuckles brushed against his cheeks and it only caused him to blush more. Pulling away quickly before something sentimental and romantic could be said, Yamamoto's scrubs were tossed at him.

"Whatever, baseball freak." When his back was turned, Yamamoto didn't catch the soft smile and mumble of _I love you_ _too_.

* * *

**Fin**.

_This really adorable girl who I totally would be gay for allowed me to have a conversation with her today. It was __**amazing**__. _C:

_Sorry for the lame excuse for a lemon-y stuff/everything. I don't try, and I'm hungry and tired and I want to never go to school again. But it would be awesome if I could get around to eating some Dinosaur-shaped Macaroni. _


End file.
